


Tempting the Storm

by Trashy_the_Trashman



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (I mean not really but there's a bit of that dynamic), Archery, M/M, Romance, Shipping, Teacher-Student Relationship, man I suck at tagging, oh also there's a mild electrical burn! you've been warned!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashy_the_Trashman/pseuds/Trashy_the_Trashman
Summary: When the prince of the Zora feels he needs archery lessons, who better to ask for help than the Champion of Hyrule?





	Tempting the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the freeing of the Divine Beasts but before the confrontation with the Calamity Ganon.

Prince Sidon, heir to the Zora throne, stood on the stone dock stretching out into the East Reservoir Lake. The sun was rising in the sky, with not a cloud in sight. The air was hot and dry, and though Sidon would have loved nothing more than to leap into the waters and cool himself, this was the one day he could not. Besides, after the near-endless rainfall from Vah Ruta, he had learned to cherish these clear days.

Slung across his back was an enormous silver longbow, handcrafted by Zora artisans specifically to match his huge frame. He wore a quiver of matching silver, filled generously with arrows. They weren’t what he wanted to practice with today, but Sidon thought that arriving for an archery lesson without any arrows at all would be poor form.

That was assuming the lesson happened at all, of course. Over a week ago, Sidon had stationed a rotating set of messengers in the heart of Zora’s Domain to keep an eye out for Link, Champion of Hyrule. This was an act of both caution and necessity: on one hand, sending messengers out into the wild was terribly risky, and Sidon would avoid it unless absolutely necessary. On the other, he truly felt that he needed Link’s help.

Yesterday, he’d received word that Link had briefly visited the realm and Sidon’s message had been delivered. Link had agreed to return the next day to assist Sidon in mastering the bow. He had also agreed to bring something difficult to obtain in the land of the Zora, something dangerous and yet one Sidon felt he couldn’t ignore any longer. Even now, standing on the dock with the peaceful waves lapping below, he could feel the tension in every inch of his body.

This was more than just nerves about today’s lesson. Link was a paragon, a hero who would any day now storm Hyrule Castle for a final showdown with the Calamity Ganon. He was a master of all forms of martial combat, a survivalist beyond compare, and utterly unflinching in the face of danger. The very qualities that made him an ideal tutor also made him an intimidating one.

Not to mention the… _other_ things. Link’s history with the Zora. His relationship with Sidon’s late sister, Mipha. The slight wound to the Zora prince’s pride, having been forced to ask Link to risk life and limb in calming Vah Ruta. And there was more, those nameless feelings between awe and admiration that bubbled within Sidon. He would be happy to see Link, certainly, but he was restless. He wished he could swim.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t hear Link approach. It wasn’t until the Hylian stood beside him and offered a small wave of greeting that Sidon was broken from his ruminations.

“Link! How are you, my friend?” he asked. The Hylian, characteristically quiet, gave a slight smile and shrugged. He was wearing the blue tunic—his mark as a Champion—and across his back was the blade of evil’s bane, the Master Sword. That aside, he had brought only a crude-looking wooden bow and quiver, and a parcel at his side wrapped in cloth.

Sidon was suddenly embarrassed—he had brought a bow tailored specifically for his own use, but the hero had to use one held together with splinters and luck. Should he have brought one for his teacher? Or would that have been too earnest? Link was giving him an inquisitive look—was he thinking the same thing?

“Thank you for meeting me here!” Sidon continued, eager to draw attention elsewhere. “The past few days have been especially dry, and I believe there would be no better time for our lesson. Are you ready?”

Link nodded. Rather than readying his bow, however, it seemed the hero had already planned a target for the two of them. He removed the small device he wore at his hip—the Sheikah Slate—and pointed it at the far waters of the lake. There rose a pillar of ice, summoned forth by the Slate.

Before Sidon could comment on this, Link loosed the bow from his back, nocked an arrow, and fired it over the water. It whistled through the air but a moment before piercing the ice with a distant _thunk_. Then he turned to Sidon and gestured with one hand as though to say, _Your turn_.

There was no bravado to the act, no flair, nothing to suggest this had been Link showing off. He was just demonstrating a clean, precise shot. And yet it was the absence of pride, the utterly rote way he sent the arrow flying, that was so remarkable. Sidon gasped, both impressed and a little intimidated.

“That was incredible! I knew your skill with a bow, but that…! That was perfect! Let me try!” Sidon was, in truth, a decent archer. He’d dedicated much of his youth to learning the arts of war to protect his people, and though he favored the sword and the spear, he hadn’t neglected the bow.

He drew his own from his back and readied an arrow. It took him a moment to line up his shot, staring down the arrow and clenching his teeth a little. Then he let go. The arrow roared through the air and smashed into the ice with satisfying force, sending little frigid chips flying. But he’d only just managed to hit the pillar, a grazing shot.

“Not quite as accurate as you are, my friend,” said Sidon with a smile. He was, in truth, slightly disappointed in himself. He had hoped his first arrow would be just as good, just as impressive. He knew, of course, that this would mean he didn’t need training in the first place, but this odd desire to show off persisted.

Link, however, seemed intrigued. He was nodding as though in understanding, those bright blue eyes set in a slight squint. He drew another arrow and readied himself, though he paused before shooting. He waited until Sidon was watching closely, then stepped down firmly with both feet, one at a time. His stance was firm, feet were parallel. _Stand like this_. He let his arrow fly, and it landed mere inches from his first.

Sidon adjusted his feet, took a deep breath, and readied his bow once more. Again it tore over the water and cracked the ice, though this time the shot was a little cleaner. It came closer to the pillar’s center and landed at a smoother angle. Sidon looked to Link for approval and was delighted when the Hylian smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

The two continued like this for some time, though it was mostly Link silently encouraging Sidon to keep trying to hit the ice. His arrows were so powerful that every so often Link would have to make a new pillar, as the old one had already started to crack and crumble.

Still, Sidon found himself fixated on gaining Link’s approval. His own arrows were strong, true, but it took him time to line up his shot and predict the arrow’s arc. Link made it look effortless. It came as easy as breathing, movements swift and natural as a flowing river. He never hesitated, never gauged the wind or doubted his eye. He was a warrior at his very soul.

Perhaps it would have looked odd to an outside observer, the towering Zora constantly looking to the Hylian half his height for instruction and praise. Once, Link tried to assist Sidon with the way he drew back the bowstring, but the prince was simply too tall. Link had to beckon him to take a knee to help adjust his arm. When he was done, Sidon stood back to his full height and loosed the arrow in an excellent shot.

Now the sun was at its zenith, and the air was hot above the lake. Waves lapped at the stone dock in a gentle rhythm, and the buzz of dragonflies and the splash of playful fish could be heard. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and though the heat was draining, Sidon was still pleased with his progress. Though Link was a silent teacher, he never seemed disappointed or otherwise critical. His approval was quiet but ever-present. At last, Sidon eased the grip on his bow.

“I think it’s time, Link,” he said, and the Hylian Champion gave him a nod. He reached to the small parcel he’d brought and unwrapped it with utmost care. Just seeing what was inside sent a shiver down Sidon’s spine. They were arrows, each delicately crafted and imbued with all the electric potency of a thunderbolt. Shock arrows, the true reason Sidon had asked for Link’s tutelage.

“You must be wondering why I asked you to bring those,” said Sidon, not taking his eyes off the magic arrows. Each had a large, pronged head. “You remember when Vah Ruta rampaged and I asked for your help? Those arrows were instrumental to our assault, and yet not a Zora alive could wield them. I want to fix that. If we ever have need of their electric might, we need to be able to wield them for ourselves.”

This was partially true. Sidon knew just how desperate the Zora had become in the final days before Link’s arrival, how crucial the use of shock arrows had been. And he knew of their danger—the aquatic nature of Zora meant that one misstep with the arrows would spell almost certain death. But one of them had to learn how to handle them, and today was a good, dry day. There was another reason he wanted Link to teach him, though he could hardly admit it to even himself.

Link listened to this intently. He gave no indication of surprise or doubt, no fear or approval. But his eyes burned into Sidon’s with such a ferocity that the Zora prince nearly looked away. It was an acknowledgment of danger. Link knew just as well as he did what would happen if either slipped with these arrows.

With the care of one handling a newborn—or perhaps one handling gunpowder—Link stowed these new arrows into his near-empty quiver. However, he took one out and held it in both hands, pinched carefully between his fingertips. He was not offering it. Instead, he held the end near the fletching even tighter, and with his other hand began to slide his fingertips along the arrow’s shaft.

Sidon was puzzled by this and was about to ask what Link was doing when at last he realized. As Link’s fingers approached the arrowhead, minute sparks flickered out. Link’s eyes were still on Sidon. _Watch_. His fingers crept closer and closer until they brushed against the head. There was a sound like shattering rock, and a bolt of electricity lanced through Link’s hand.

“Link—!” Sidon gasped, recoiling in panic. But to his surprise, the Hylian hadn’t flinched. The hand near the arrowhead was a little red and his hair seemed to have become even wilder, if possible. But it was clear that the spark had been intentional. _If your hand goes this far, if it falters or flinches_ , his eyes said, _you die_.

Among the Hylians there was an expression, “playing with fire.” It meant putting oneself in a situation where they would be vulnerable, exposed to danger. The Zora, with their aquatic homes and stones of light, had no fear of flame and thus never adopted the phrase. They had another, though— “tempting the storm.” It had much the same meaning, though there was the underlying notion that the danger was welcomed. Then and there, Sidon knew he was tempting the storm, though he wasn’t sure if it was the glittering arrow or the man holding it.

Link drew his bow once more and sent the shock arrow flying. It wasn’t towards the ice—this was no show of skill. No, the arrow hit the water and sent great jolts of lightning seething across the waves. This was a demonstration of the arrow’s power, of just what wrath Sidon would risk every time he dared to hold the lightning.

But Sidon couldn’t take his eyes off Link. Partly to study his form, of course, but also out of a strange new curiosity. Perhaps that wasn’t the right word—fascination? That seemed so strong a term, but it was more accurate. The way Link had endured the bolt to prove his point had been remarkable. Sidon had seen Link in the fury and fire of combat, but even the greatest warriors would shy away from such pain. All except this one.

Link turned back to Sidon and gave him another small nod. He produced another shock arrow, and this time did offer it to the Zora prince. Sidon, however, could not accept.

“If… if you wouldn’t mind,” he said, as Link raised an eyebrow, “would you show me again? I… want to make sure I have the right form before I try.” Link nodded, and for some time Sidon simply watched as the Champion sent thunderous arrows smashing into the waters of the lake.

He was noting Link’s form, certainly. The Hylian’s marksmanship had everything that Sidon felt he lacked. While he had strength in abundance, Link was deft, swift, and assured. His hands moved with muscle memory, with skill so ingrained that it bore no thought at all. Sidon watched, noting where he gripped arrows, how he held his bow, when he chose to let go.

And then there was the other reason, the one that for some reason Sidon struggled to acknowledge. The Hylian Champion had a simple, raw magnetism. He’d seen it immediately, from the first time they’d met on the Inogo Bridge. And it was that same magnetism that, somewhat embarrassingly, had drawn him to follow Link’s journey up the Zora River shouting encouragement all the while.

That was his shame. For all his assurances that this was a matter of marksmanship—claims which weren’t technically lies—he could not deny that the real victory of the day was just having Link back. He was a man shrouded in danger, never afraid to gamble his life for the greater good. But that same boldness was the foundation of his heroism. He was exactly the sort of person who would take a bolt of electricity just to caution someone else.

At last, Link stopped. His gaze was once again upon Sidon, and once again he offered one of those enchanted arrows. Sidon raised his hands in defensive protest, but Link was insistent. After all, he was here to teach Sidon, wasn’t he? What other purpose could his presence fill if not this? Reluctantly, and with immaculate care, Sidon took the arrow.

Though he knew it weighed the same as any other arrow, the Zora prince still felt it was somehow heavier. It had gravity, consequence. This was death incarnate among the Zora. Yes, he was truly tempting the storm now.

He readied his silver longbow, pleading that his hands not shake. He’d prepared emergency measures in case of any accidents—a number of healing salves were at the ready, and he’d drunk an elixir meant to stave off electricity—but even these were longshots. He swallowed hard, nocked the arrow, and took aim at their icy target. He would prove himself.

And then his hand slipped.

Sidon watched, horrified, as time slowed to a crawl. The arrow dipped off the bow and began falling. He knew that the moment it hit the ground it would discharge. Electricity would flood out. It would spear through him, tear through his flesh. This was the end.

Movement, faster than his eyes could catch. A hand, darting out. Before Sidon could react, Link had caught the arrow. But it had been pure instinct, not thought out. His fingers curled around that bright arrowhead, trying to keep it from hitting the ground.

Sidon could only watch as brilliant, roaring bolts snaked up Link’s arm, scorching his flesh and pulling his muscles in awful, jerking motions. He staggered. His teeth were bared, but his eyes were intense. He took a single, shuddering step and hurled the arrow out into the lake. It was a good toss, but still landed far closer than if it had been shot, and both were blinded momentarily by tendrils of furious light. Then they were gone, and Link’s knees gave out.

“LINK!” Sidon cried. He tossed aside his bow and hurried closer, but the Champion held up a hand. Sparks still flickered off his body. Still, Sidon tried to assess the damage. Though he couldn’t see Link’s arms, the flesh on his fingers and his lower neck was red and raw. Thankfully, he seemed to have avoided the worst injuries by quick reflexes or sheer blind luck.

“I… Link, I’m so sorry,” Sidon said as Link struggled to catch his breath. All his usual bravado was gone. He was grateful, but… Goddess, this was the last thing he wanted. A moment’s mistake and the hero had almost been lost. All Sidon had wanted was a little time alone.

“Are you okay?” The sound cut through the air, not as loud as the roar of the thunderous arrows but somehow much clearer. It was the first time Link had spoken today. His eyes were closed, and his breathing still heavy.

“I’m fine,” replied Sidon weakly. “Thanks to you.” At this, Link smiled faintly and nodded. He was still shaking from head to toe, but he was steadying. Gingerly, he removed his glove and the light armor covering his forearm and rolled up his sleeve. Beneath, his skin had flared to an ugly crimson, with blackened marks here and there.

On shaky legs, he stood up and walked over to the edge of the dock. He took a seat there, letting his legs—boots and all—dangle down into the waves. With his undamaged hand he began scooping up the cool lake water and drizzling it over his singed arm. Sidon didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help, but this mistake had been his own. Link would no doubt be upset. But he couldn’t just leave, either. He stood there, floundering until at last Link turned his head back and gently patted the stone dock beside him. _Come, take a seat_.

Meekly—a difficult emotion for a Zora of such great stature and standing—Sidon approached the dock’s edge and sat beside the Champion. He took the same position, letting his legs into the water, and immediately felt his nerves ease. He was still worried, of course, but he could tell the dryness of the day had helped put him on edge. They had both needed the water.

Link said nothing more, just kept letting the cool water run down his arm. Across the lake, the pillar of ice was beginning to melt, chunks sloughing off into the lake below. The chaos of the shock arrows having passed, a few ducks had landed in the distant waters with a splash, bobbing merrily on the waves.

What was Sidon to do now? Certainly, he felt he had to apologize, but what then? The lesson was over. Link didn’t seem angry, but that didn’t mean he’d be coming back any time soon. Was that it, then? Was he just supposed to apologize and Link would be on his way? That couldn’t be it.

“Link, I…” he said, struggling for the words even as he spoke them aloud. “I want to confess to something.” The Hylian stopped his rhythmic motions, giving Sidon his full attention. This was, somewhat paradoxically, both what Sidon wanted and feared. “It’s true that I wanted your guidance in archery, but that… wasn’t the only reason I asked you here today. To tell the truth, I was just hoping to see you again. To… to get closer to you. I suppose that didn’t quite work out. I… I am so, so sorry.”

The expression on Link’s face was unreadable. While normally stoic and alert, his brow was now creased and a slight frown turned his lips. It was neither sadness nor anger, but some other turmoil. At last, he reached back to his quiver and drew forth a particular arrow.

Sidon tensed at first when he saw the makings of a shock arrow, but soon realized that this wasn’t quite what he was seeing. It had the same distinctive arrowhead shape, but while most of their kind had glittering heads enchanted with lightning, this one instead sparkled with Zora silver. He held it out to the Zora prince, a little redness lighting his cheeks.

The prince was touched. It was clear that Link had prepared this gift especially for him, and it didn’t take much thought to grasp the meaning behind the arrow. Link knew that shock arrows would be fatal to any Zora but had been told that Sidon needed them. And so here was just such an arrow made for the Zora prince, though one that would never hurt him.

Perhaps, thought Sidon as he carefully held the arrow, he hadn’t tempted the storm by inviting Link here or even by harnessing lightning. Perhaps the real danger he’d faced was that of being vulnerable. He had dared to be honest, dared to reveal himself. As he looked from that shining arrow to the still-blushing man who had gifted it to him, he couldn’t help but smile. Dangerous though it had been, nothing could be more worthwhile.

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! Sure hope you enjoyed this! It's a little on the short side, but that's what you get with a one-off that's basically one scene!
> 
> I know there's already a ton of Link/Sidon stuff, but I thought it would be fun to take a swing at it, and it was! Boy howdy did I learn a lot about electrical burns while writing this. Rinse with cool water only, folks! Not cold!
> 
> Still not really sure if the quality of this is good enough, and I'd always appreciate feedback if you've got it! Anyway, thanks for reading!


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